Crimes
by wolfraven80
Summary: FE8 Seth/Eirika ... Knoll, Natasha, and Cormag have come to Renais seeking aid for their ravaged country. But though the war may be over, the crimes of Grado are not forgotten, and an assassin plans to see justice done.
1. Prologue: Vandalism

**A/N:** I wrote the bulk of this story nearly four years ago, in early 2010, I believe. However, there were things about it that just didn't work, and I couldn't seem to figure out how to fix it, so I set it aside. I always meant to come back to it, though. I had some extra time during my holidays this year and took another stab at it. It's been a long while since I posted a chaptered TSS piece, but I hope this story will be of amusement to a few people anyway.

* * *

**Crimes**

_If love be a crime_

_Then guilty am I_

_And I'll happily do my time, my time_

_I'll happily do my time_

– Renais folk song

**Prologue: Vandalism**

After all his years of training as a monk and healer, the smell of libraries was far from unfamiliar to Artur. It was that lingering scent of old bindings and glue, slightly musty but comforting somehow.

The two storey domed gallery that was Castle Renais' library always made him pause to crane his neck and peer up at its high ceiling. Such a grandiose affair compared to the cramped rectangular hall in the temple where he'd been trained. He sighed as he strode down the main aisle, casting glances left and right. Everywhere he found robed figures, more than he'd ever seen at one time in Renais, but none of them was the mage he sought.

He found Lute after some ten minutes' search, hunched over a book in the back corner of the library. When she heard him approach, she raised her head and cast a baleful glance over her shoulder. Her air softened when she saw it was him. "I thought you were one of those skulking dark mages, coming to distract me."

"Well," said Artur, amused by her lingering distrust of Knoll's group of apprentice mages, "I admit, I did come to distract you."

Her eyebrows rose ever so slightly.

"So what are you reading?" Artur asked.

"A tome related to dark magic."

"But you use anima magic. Why are you reading spells you can't use?"

Lute tilted her head and peered at him as if he'd asked her why two and two were four. "I need to better understand dark mages. You never know what sort of trouble they might cause."

"But, Lute, you _know_ Knoll. He fought with us during the war. You don't really think..."

Lute sniffed and turned her eyes back to the book. It was an old volume, pages made of thick parchment, the sinuous script written in a style he had rarely seen in the temple's collections. For a minute, he squinted at the page, painstakingly decrypting the long strings of words squeezed close together to save space. "Lute..." he whispered.

She nodded once. "It's very obscure."

"It's very dangerous," Artur hissed.

With great care, as if she were handling a holy relic, Lute closed the book to show him its cover. There was a symbol scorched into the wooden book cover, burned through the leather casing. "It was sealed," he said.

"It was. Once."

"You're not the one who broke it?"

She shook her head. "No. It appears that it was done long ago. The volume was tucked away in a dusty corner of the stacks. Most of it is fairly innocuous as far as dark magic is concerned."

"But the part you were reading..."

She opened the book again to the page in question. "This seems to be the only truly interesting part."

"Interesting? That spell should be sealed away again. In fact it should be destroyed."

Her brow furrowed. "I'm not ceratin that I can agree with you, Artur. Certainly it should be kept out of the hands of... _them_," she said, waving vaguely towards the rest of the library, which still swarmed with Knoll's comrades, "but destroying knowledge isn't an acceptable practice."

"It's not safe," Artur said. "How did you even find it?"

"I was asked to research certain arcane matters. I stumbled upon the book during the course of my search."

"Asked by whom?"

Frowning, she closed the book once more and rose to replace it on the shelf where she had found it. She had to stand on the tips of her toes to reach it. "We can discuss this another time, Artur," she announced. "You came here to speak to me, didn't you?"

Setting aside his concerns for the moment, he allowed a smile to return to his face. "It's lovely outside and I was hoping you'd join me for a walk."

"A walk to where?"

"Nowhere. Just a walk. With me?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

For a moment he thought he was going to have to explain the concept of taking a walk to her, but then she murmured, "Oh," a flush creeping onto her features.

He offered his arm. After a moment's hesitation, she took it.

Artur had not, however, forgotten about the book. If Lute refused to destroy it then perhaps they could see about re-sealing it or having it stored in a safer location. That evening, he returned alone to the library, making his way to the back corner where he had seen her reading. The tome was still there on the shelf. With great care, he pulled it down and opened it on the table at which Lute had sat.

His heart skipped a beat when he turned to the page they had argued about. It had been cut out with great precision, the rest of the volume having sustained no damage from the extraction.

Artur let his fingers trail over the stub of the page. "Lute..." he whispered.


	2. One: Treason

_If my love for you is treason_

_Then to another land I'll ride_

_No need for king or country_

_When you are at my side_

_If love be a crime_

_Then guilty am I_

_And I'll happily do my time, my time_

_I'll happily do my time_

– Renais folk song

**One: Treason**

Cormag did not consider himself to be a cheerful sort of person. Rather he was of a similar temperament to his wyvern Genarog, who was as likely to snap at anyone as not – even his rider. That being the case, neither the bright beams of sunlight slanting down into the castle courtyard, nor the freshness of the morning breeze on his cheeks, nor even the scent of wildflowers in the air had much impact on Cormag. His limbs felt light and limber and his belly was full, and for all that he was grateful, but cheerfulness was not a likely result.

Princess Eirika was another matter entirely.

Her smiling face on this fine morning radiated good humour as she toured the groups of stonemasons who were working to restore the portions of Castle Renais that had been damaged during the war. Cormag himself was in Renais for similar reasons, though his aim was to help restore his homeland of Grado, which had suffered greatly after the terrible earthquake that had struck shortly after the war's end. He had come with a flight of wyverns to collect building supplies, mainly stone and lumber, that would be flown back to Grado. While they were in Renais, though, the wyvern riders had offered to help with the reconstruction efforts. After all, a flight of wyverns could heft stones to the top of towers with more ease and speed than any stonemason

Knoll, who had accompanied Cormag with a group of young mages hoping to make good use of Renais' extensive library, was settled in shadowy corner of the courtyard along with a handful of his associates. A few paces away from him, skulking behind a pile of stone blocks, the Renais mage, Lute, was peering at Knoll, who seemed oblivious to her presence, his attention focussed on Princess Eirika. But then the princess had that effect on nearly everyone. Even Cormag himself. Her earnestness, the way truth shone through her words, had saved her from his lance.

He stiffened when he noticed her heading his way.

"Cormag, how fare you today?" she asked as she came to join him in the corner of the courtyard, where he could watch his fellow riders trying to coax their wyverns into being willing beasts of burden.

"Well, princess."

She raised her eyes to the trio of wyverns, their leathery wings beating at the air as they struggled to stay aloft with their loads clutched in their talons. "We're grateful for the help you and your comrades have offered. This will speed up repairs by months."

Cormag gave a curt nod. "It's the least we could do, princess, after everything Renais has done to help Grado these past months."

A shadow hovered over them as one of the wyverns passed lazily overhead, its wingbeats a steady thrum in the air.

"I only wish–"

What she wished he never knew, as raised voices rang through the air, drawing their attention to the far side of the courtyard. A dark mage, hood pulled up over her face, was arguing with a tall, lean woman, dressed in the garb of a castle guard. The wingbeats of the wyverns still working overhead muffled the sound so that the only word he could clearly make out was "Grado."

The princess frowned, her eyes narrowing as she watched the guardwoman. "Myrna," she said.

Cormag glanced at her. "Do you know her, Princess?"

"I know _of_ her." She bit her lip for a moment as if uncertain whether to go on. "We had some trouble with her recently. She took issue with Amelia's being from Grado."

"I see."

Already the other mages were moving to join their comrade. Her hood had fallen away, allowing her mane of black curls to tumble around her face.

The princess squared her shoulders. "I shall have to apologise to Knoll for this. Excuse me, Cormag."

The thrum of wyvern wings filled his ears as one of the beasts maneuvered its load of stones. He offered a curt nod. "Of course, Princess."

She moved away from him, but then paused after a step and turned back, glancing up towards the wyvern as its shadow fell over them.

The steady rhythm of those wingbeats shifted into a erratic pulse and Cormag reacted on instinct, grabbing the princess and hurtling towards cover. His ears were filled with a roaring and for a moment he felt as if he were back in Grado when the earth had shaken itself to pieces, breaking apart the land he'd called home.

But the thunderous crash lasted only a moment, not the endless minutes the quake had.

He raised his head and breathed in a cloud of thick dust, drawing racking coughs from his lungs. Peering through it, he could see heaps of stone, shattered on the cobblestones of the courtyard. What in the gods' names had happened? Wyverns were not want to drop their loads. Something must have–

The coughing next to him drew his attention away from the accident. "Princess Eirika?" His eyes scanned her up and down but she looked to still be in one piece.

"I'm all right," she assured him. "What..." Words fell away when her eyes came to rest on the broken blocks of stone that had fallen right where they'd been standing moments before. Already people were running towards them, calling for healers. She was very pale, but her voice was full of gratitude. "You saved my life... Thank you."

On legs that he hated to admit were just a mite wobbly, he rose and offered her a hand up. She was in the midst of assuring the concerned stonemasons that she was well when Cormag caught sight of a head of russet hair in the doorway to the courtyard's main entrance.

Seth pushed through the crowd to reach them, but he had eyes only for the princess. "My lady, are you–"

"Seth!" Decorum was well and truly forgotten as she threw her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder. Looking bewildered and rather pale himself, Seth put his arms around her and gave no indication that he intended to let go even as he questioned the gathered group about what had happened.

Even in the midst of all this chaos, Cormag could not keep a wry smile from his lips. For all that he was an excellent knight, it seemed that Seth was, after all, only a man.

#

Most people had to be content with wooden markers on their graves. Nobles and wealthy merchants could commission stone pieces of varying degrees of ornateness. Knights were afforded special stones, carved inscriptions detailing the services they had rendered to their king, their feats, and their final moments. All save one.

Seth stooped to brush away the flecks of dirt that had settled on the marker. A stone embellished with the carved faces of goddesses and a name: Monica. There was only one name, but two were buried here. After his betrayal of Renais, Orson had been lucky to be buried at all, let alone in the same soil where rested many a loyal knight. His body and his wife's now lay together, though only her name appeared on the marker Orson himself had commissioned.

Orson had betrayed Renais, had fought his own people, had even been willing to capture the princess and hand her over to Grado. For such treason there could be no forgiveness, and Seth had no doubts about his role in the matter, but Orson's derision had surprised him. And the irony... For even now Seth could still feel the warmth of the princess's embrace.

Seth's hand darted to his hilt as he heard footsteps approaching from behind. It fell away a moment later at the sound of a familiar voice. "It's only me."

"Cormag," Seth said, but he did not turn.

"How's the princess?"

"Resting," Seth replied. "She was quite shaken by what happened."

"I see." And then after a moment's pause, "Visiting a friend?"

"Of sorts. I... needed a few moments to think in peace."

Standing next to him, Cormag peered down at the marker. The scar on his cheek always gave his features a slightly lopsided twist, making him seem never _quite_ in earnest. "Monica? Wasn't she the wife of that turncoat knight? Sir Orson?" Seth nodded. "Is he buried here too?"

"Yes," Seth replied without looking up.

"No name," Cormag noted. "But I guess that's to be expected for our kind."

"You left Grado for very different reasons."

Cormag shrugged. "If Grado had won the war, the result for me would've been the same. Or worse. I don't think they'd have bothered with a proper grave if they'd caught me. So you were friends then before the war?"

"We served together for years and I had thought so but..."

_You're an impressive knight, Seth. You would sacrifice your life for king and country. Not even a moment's pause. It's a pitiful, unrewarding life, through and through._

Orson's parting words stung even now.

Cormag nodded. "I was there you know when you took him down. I heard what he had to say about you. He wasn't in his right mind."

"Perhaps not," Seth replied, "but his words had the ring of truth, of something he'd believed for years and never dared to say."

A snort. "Come off it, Seth. Even I thought that when I first met you, remember? I thought you were just another loyal dullard." Seth glanced up in time to see a smile – very definitely lopsided – on Cormag's face. "You play your part too well, my friend."

"That may be so, but it isn't–"

"It isn't true? Oh I know that. After what happened this morning it's plainer than ever."

Seth scowled up at him. "This morning?"

"I may have saved the princess's life, but it wasn't _my_ arms she threw herself into."

Heaving a sigh, Seth rose to his feet and brushed off the knees of his breeches. "If you're trying to extract a confession from me, your timing is ill-considered."

"That wasn't my intent. Just... you're a far cry from the dullard Orson thought you to be – or that I did for that matter. "

Seth quirked an eyebrow. "Thank you."

"You know," Cormag went on, before Seth could change the course of the discussion. "You're the king's favourite, that's plain to see. No one's going to hang you up for courting the princess."

Seth stiffened. Things were never as simple as people thought them to be. "There are obstacles of custom and status. Ones that even King Ephraim cannot overleap."

That lopsided look returned to Cormag's face. "Obstacles? Truly, Seth?"

He squared his shoulders and clasped his hands behind his back, in the pose he took when explaining regulations to young squires. "A knight in service to the king cannot marry above his station without a special dispensation from the Council of Knights. It would cause discord among the knights otherwise. At present, the council is in complete disarray due to the war– so many holdings without knights, without heirs." He shook his head.

"But he's the king. Surely he can make an exception."

"The kings of Renais have always allowed the Council of Knights discretion to rule its own. To overrule the council would break all custom, would betray the ties of fealty between king and knight. I would not have King Ephraim become a tyrant on my behalf."

Cormag's lips twitched. "I'm reconsidering my comment about your not being a dullard."

Seth thought better of replying to that. "Did you come to speak to me about something?" he asked instead.

Cormag's wryness vanished, like sunbeams eclipsed by gathering clouds. "I've got some news about the accident this morning."

"Yes?"

"The wyvern didn't just drop his load. It was hit with something. Magic by the look of the burns."

Seth's voice was like the steel edge of his blade. "You believe someone was attempting to assassinate the princess?"

"Actually, I think they were after... Well maybe I should just show you. The spell – whatever it was – left a little something behind."

When they returned to the castle courtyard, letters were scorched onto the far wall where Cormag and Eirika had been talking that morning: _Traitors to Grado will pay the price of treason_.

"I think," Cormag said as they stood before the sooty letters on the stone wall, "that they were after me."


	3. Two: Fraud

_If the other lads they tell you, love,_

_That I have been untrue_

_Then tell them they are scoundrels all_

_For my only love is you_

_If love be a crime_

_Then guilty am I_

_And I'll happily do my time, my time_

_I'll happily do my time_

– Renais folk song

**Two: Fraud**

Of the five people gathered together in Ephraim's study, not a one looked anything but displeased. Seated across from him, their Grado guests, Knoll, Natasha, and Cormag, all looked thoroughly put out. Seth, stationed by the door as if on guard, looked entirely disapproving. Ephraim himself was doing his utmost to look calm and kingly when what he truly wanted to do was shake his guests until they came to their senses–unlikely as that seemed at present.

"King Ephraim, I understand your concern," Knoll was saying, "but it's vital that we continue our research. We _must_ discover a method to seal the artifacts used during Prince Lyon's ceremonies. The Dark Stone may be gone but there are relics in Grado that are nearly as dangerous."

Ephraim sighed. "So you've said, but our library won't do you much good if you're killed by this would-be assassin."

The hood of Knoll's robe cast a shadow over his face, so that his eyes looked sunken and dark. "I will offer the others the chance to leave, but I would like to stay. If I must give my life to protect Grado, then so be it."

Cormag glanced at Knoll, shaking his head. "No need to be so grim. I say we catch this cowardly mage before he does any more damage," he said and pounded his fist in his open palm.

"We will catch him," Seth replied. "Let there be no doubt on that issue."

Shifting in his seat, Cormag turned to look at Seth. "But think how much easier that will be if you know where he'll strike."

Seth's brows furrowed. "You're offering yourself as... bait?"

A nonchalant shrug was Cormag's only response. Ephraim resisted the urge to tear at his hair. Seth had often lectured him for being hotheaded but Ephraim couldn't help but think that, at this moment, Cormag was making him seem a model of calm and restraint. The wyvern rider turned then to Natasha. "You should head home, Sister. There's no need for all of us to stay behind."

When she shook her head, Ephraim was ready to scream. "No," she said. "I won't abandon you all in such danger. My skills will be of use if there's another attack."

"That's all very noble, Sister," Ephraim cut in, doing his best to keep his voice even, "but I assure you we have excellent healers in Renais."

Colour rose in her cheeks. "I know, your Majesty. I– I didn't intend to imply otherwise." She shook her head. "But please do not ask me to abandon my comrades–my friends–when they may be in danger."

Rubbing at a spot between his eyes that was beginning to ache, Ephraim heaved a sigh. He really should have abdicated and run off to Carcino. Eirika would do better at handling this nonsense than he. "I have half a mind to banish you all back to Grado since you've clearly lost all reason." He held up a hand to forestall their protests. "But I won't." He rose and the assembled group leaped to their feet in response. "Seth, you'll arrange a guard detail for our guests?"

Seth bowed. "I've already done so, my lord. They should be waiting outside as we speak."

"Then let's adjourn for the moment." Carcino was supposed to be lovely at this time of year...

He motioned towards the door. As their guests filed out of the study Ephraim sidled up to Seth and clapped him on the shoulder. "I don't suppose you're interested in become king, are you?"

"Y–your Highness?"

Ephraim sighed. "Oh never mind."

And with that he headed out, with a distraught-looking Seth trailing behind him.

#

There were fewer than a dozen mages currently residing in Castle Renais, excluding apprentices and Knoll's visiting group. These nine spell casters were lined up in a neat row in one of the training rooms used by the soldiers, while Seth stalked back and forth, eyes trained on the line. To say the general looked unhappy would have been something of an understatement.

As Lute watched him pace, she noted his drawn brows, the stiff set of his shoulders, the veins she could see popping out of his forearm as he gripped his hands behind his back. No, the general was certainly not in good spirits today, though after this morning's events that was, perhaps, to be expected.

"By now," Seth began, his voice low, his brow still furrowed, "you've all heard about the incident in the courtyard this morning." There were nods and a few murmured "Yes, general". "It's been determined that a mage was responsible for the incident." Several expressions of shock and consternation followed this announcement, but nothing compared to what followed next. "As a result, we'll need to keep all of you under guard until we can confirm your whereabouts this morning."

Lute herself said nothing. It was logical enough. If a mage had been involved it was most likely one of the nine of them. Interviews were likely to follow so that each mage could explain where he or she had been this morning and it would take time to confirm each one's story.

"I'll speak to you one by one," Seth continued. "If you know anything about the incident or have noticed anything suspicious that could be related to it, we can speak of it then."

Her brows creased when Seth asked Artur to follow him first. She had hoped to get the chance to speak to Artur about the dark magic tome...

#

"I apologise for all this, Artur," Seth said, as he motioned for the monk to sit. Artur wasn't certain he'd been in this part of the castle before, near the soldiers' barracks, a small room with no windows and only a table and two benches for furniture. A piece or parchment along with a quill and ink lay on the table. "In a situation like this it's essential that we treat everyone equally."

Artur nodded. "I understand, Sir Seth."

"Thank you. Then let's be brief. Where were you when the incident occurred this morning?"

"I was in the infirmary treating one of your recruits who'd sprained his knee. Squire Thomlin."

Seth nodded and sat to make note of this, jotting the letters down on the parchment with quick strokes. "Do you know of anyone among the mages who might have taken a dislike to Cormag or to Grado in general?"

Artur thought on this for a moment but nothing came to mind. When there was talk of Grado it was normally related to the earthquake and the relief efforts – at least among the other spellcasters. He knew there were many who'd lost friends and family during the war, but he wasn't aware of any among his peers. Finally he gave a shake of his head. "I'm sorry, general, I can't think of anyone who would do something like that. Or of anyone who'd have a motive to do so."

"Have you noticed anything unusual, then? Anything at all?"

He bit his lip– the first thing that came to mind was Lute poring over that book about dark magic, and the torn page he'd discovered later. But in spite of her unease around the dark mages visiting from Grado, Lute would never act out the way the mage who'd gone after Cormag had. Retribution wasn't in her nature; it would be too illogical for her.

"No," Artur said, his heart thrumming as he said it. "Nothing comes to mind."

Seth peered at him for a moment but then gave a nod and dismissed him, much to Artur's relief. He would speak privately to Lute about the book as soon as he got the chance, just to be safe.

#

When Ephraim found his sister in the banquet hall, shortly before dinner was to be served, she was scowling at something across the room. He followed her gaze to find that Seth was in the midst of a discussion with Sister Natasha.

He glanced at his sister, at the general and the healer, and then back to his sister, trying to keep the amusement from his voice as he said, "You look like you're ready to do our would-be-killer's work for him." He waited a moment but Eirika did not reply. "They're just talking."

"I know," Eirika said without looking away from them.

"I don't think he's proposing marriage."

"_Ephraim_." But still she kept her eyes on the pair across the room.

"Do you want me to sidle up there and try to overhear them?"

This time she did turn to look at him and had much the same expression she'd had while watching the conversing pair.

"That would be a 'no,' sister dear?"

Without a word, Eirika took her seat at the long banquet table and Ephraim had a niggling suspicion that she wouldn't be speaking to him for the rest of the evening.

#

"Are you certain you won't reconsider?" Seth asked, half-wishing that Ephraim had indeed banished their Grado guests from the kingdom. It would certainly make the task of protecting them that much simpler. He was only glad that Amelia was away with Franz at present, searching for her mother in Grado. At least there was one less potential target to worry about.

"How can I go when Knoll and Cormag are staying?" Natasha asked, her expression full of the worry and concern Seth remembered from the war. He had seen that expression more than he had ever seen her smile.

"I'm certain they would feel relieved to know that you, at least, were out of harm's way."

A faint smile touched her lips then as she peered up into his face. "General Seth, you know I'm not one to avoid danger when I have duties to perform."

"Indeed, I do," he said wryly. Always Natasha charged into the fray if there was an injured soldier to heal–heedless of her own safety.

"But who would do such a thing?" she said, ringing her hands. "And why now? It's been nearly a year since the war ended."

Seth shook his head. He had hated needing to interrogate his own people, mages who had fought alongside them during the war, who worked hard in the castle, using their skills to make life easier for everyone. But it had been magic that had severed the straps of the wyvern's load, a small flame that had burned through the leather while the wyvern had been airborne. Only a mage – and a user of anima magic most likely – could have accomplished that and left the message.

Natasha started at the sound of fanfare as a line of servers began to make their way into the hall. Seth smiled at her and motioned her towards the king's table where all the guests from the Grado contingent were seated.

Since the end of the war, Seth had been honoured to be given a seat near King Ephraim and Princess Eirika. Ephraim had insisted on it. As he moved to take his seat now, he allowed his eyes to linger on the princess. When he had last seen her this morning, she had appeared shaken, but colour had returned to her cheeks, and the smile she offered him made her eyes dance. He gave a slight bow before he drew up his chair and sat.

Plates of wafer-thin pancakes folded around mushrooms grilled in ginger, nutmeg, and coriander, were set out before them, and the air grew thick with the aroma of spices.

"How fare you, my lady?" Seth asked before he so much as took a bite. "You look much better than when I saw you last."

She smiled at him and nodded. "I'm fine. I was only shaken. After you left, one of my attendants offered me something to drink and we just stayed in my chambers for while."

"Wine?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.

Her lips quirked. "Something a little stronger."

He could not quite keep back a smile of his own. "I'm relieved that you're feeling better."

And then, from next to her, "Eat before it gets cold." Eirika cast Ephraim a scathing glance before turning back to Seth.

"And how did things go with the mages?"

The taste of spices turned to ash on his tongue when he thought on it. "Poorly. It was an unpleasant matter and..."

"And?"

Seth heaved a sigh. He kept his voice low when he did speak. "I had to put a watch on Lute."

The fork in Eirika's hand dropped back onto her plate. "Lute? But surely you don't think she–"

He shook his head. "No. I cannot bring myself to suspect her. It's unthinkable that she would act so rashly, but of the anima mages in the castle, she is the only one who was in the courtyard. All the others have alibis and were in distant parts of the castle. It would be unjust to give her special treatment, so I ordered her to be watched."

When Eirika did finally reach for her plate, it was only to slice her food into small pieces, seeming not quite aware of the action. "The war is over and yet... it haunts us still." She glanced down with surprise at the minced remnants of her pancake and then, frowning, impaled a single slice of mushroom and nibbled at it. "I wish they would just put it to rest. How can we ever heal if..."

Seth glanced up when another voice cut in. "Some things can never be healed," Knoll said, his voice soft, but chill like the first autumn frost.

"Healing is always possible," Natasha said. She did not speak loudly, but the assurance in her voice was obvious. "Though it may require work and faith."

"Work and faith didn't save Prince Lyon." This was spoken by a voice Seth didn't recognise – one of the dark mages, he supposed, but his attention went to Eirika, and he could see the sorrow that flitted over her features at the mention of her friend's name.

"There were other forces at work, Vengar," Natasha retorted. "The Demon King himself lurked in the heart of Grado's stone."

"Prince Lyon wanted the best for Grado," the mage called Vengar said, "and look at the reward he was granted."

"But perhaps," jumped in another of the dark mages, a woman with a mane of dark curls, "you would simply consider our work with the stone to have been sacrilege, Sister Natasha. And our punishment just." Seth's brow furrowed. This was the mage who'd been the courtyard this morning, arguing with Myrna, from what he'd heard.

"_Kelri_," Knoll said warningly.

Natasha shook her head. "It's not my place to pass judgment. Nor am I naive enough to believe that we all receive during our lifetimes what is deserved. Not after everything that's happened, everything we've seen..."

Seth was grateful for the interruption when the servers came again to claim the plates and bring out the next course, saffron-coloured omelettes stuffed with salmon, red and green peppers, onions, and chives. He was relieved when Eirika made a concerted effort to chew and swallow several mouthfuls of it.

He'd hoped the previous conversation would die off, but the mage Knoll had called Kelri picked up where Natasha had left off. "After everything we've seen," she said, "I don't know how you can continue to have enough faith in the Everlasting to wield your staff, Sister."

"I must have faith – faith that there is balance and that someday there will be divine justice where human justice fails so often."

"We do our best," Ephraim said then, his tone grave, though the faint smile on his lips softened it. "Even if we fall short."

Natasha ducked her head, colour staining her cheeks. "King Ephraim, I apologise. I hardly meant–"

"I know, Sister. I've not been a king long, but I understand the burdens of ruling a kingdom and the sorts of decisions that have to be made, the way one has to weigh the good of one's subjects against that of other countries. Nothing about that is simple. And so we do our best."

"As Prince Lyon did," Vengar added darkly.

The servers continued to come and go, but for the rest of the evening, there was not much cheer to be had.


	4. Three: Libel

_If any stoop to slander you_

_Your honour I'll uphold_

_Though duelling be a grievous sin_

_I will be brave and bold_

_If love be a crime_

_Then guilty am I_

_And I'll happily do my time, my time_

_I'll happily do my time_

– Renais folk song

**Three: Libel**

It wasn't precisely a cell. A room in one of the older sections of Castle Renais, with only arrow slits for windows and a door that was barred from the outside, but not a cell. Not quite.

Seth loomed over the seated figure, a scowl marring his usually placid features. "It would be to your advantage," he said in a low tone, "to put and end to this unpleasantness as quickly as possible."

The woman in the chair glowered up at him, her legs stretched out before her, her arms crossed. With her sandy hair, broad shoulders, and longs limbs, he felt as if he were trying to converse with a caged cougar. "I don't know what you mean, General."

"Myrna," he said, voice steely, "your _dislike_ of Grado is well known to everyone in the castle." Certainly it became well known after word had gotten around that she had been harassing Amelia. Seth had made a point of enacting strict disciplinary measures as soon as he'd been informed of the matter.

A shrug of her shoulders was accompanied by a snort. "You've had a watch on me for weeks, long before the... _accident_."

"It was no accident," Seth snapped. The image of Eirika's pallid face amidst the dust still chilled his blood. Had Cormag acted a moment later...

"I've barely been able to go to the latrine without someone keeping watch on me. And I'm not a mage. How could I have had anything to do with it?"

"You were arguing with one of the mages yesterday in the courtyard shortly before the attack."

She shrugged. "We had a disagreement."

Seth leaned in. "About what?"

Myrna looked Seth straight in the eyes. "About whether the people of Grado piss in their drinking wells."

"Your insolence does not serve to aid your case," Seth replied, his tone icy. Perhaps Myrna had reason to resent Grado– after the war who didn't? But those responsible for the war were in their graves. Blaming those who had simply been swept up by the gales of war was akin to yelling at the clouds for where they loosed the rain. "Even if you weren't responsible yourself, I'd like to know who you might think was involved."

"How should I know?"

"You're acquainted with others who might have a particular grudge against Grado."

Outside, a bank of clouds had slid over the sun's face, leaving only a dim light slanting through the arrow slits. "Everyone has a grudge against Grado."

Hands clasped tightly behind his back to keep himself from balling them into fists, Seth paced the room, circling around Myrna. "Some perhaps more than others. Enough to try to cause harm to our Grado guests."

The clatter of his boots on the stones echoed dully in the small room as she remained in stony silence. In his mind's eye, Seth saw again the rush of people in the courtyard, Eirika, dust in her hair, on her face, being handed up by Cormag, the smashed stones nearby. His stomach churned.

"I don't think you understand your position," he said. "You are a soldier of Renais and someone has not only betrayed out hospitality, they also came within a hair's breadth of killing our princess. You _will_ stay in here until you tell us what you know."

Myrna spat. Seth glanced down at the white gob of saliva on the floor, lip curled in disgust.

"Princess Eirika and King Ephraim made great sacrifices during the war. Perhaps you've forgotten who restored Renais."

"The princess shouldn't be spending her time with Grado traitors anyway."

Eirika's hand had been in Cormag's and Seth's heart burned with jealousy, not at the touch, but that someone else had been her protector, someone else had been there to receive her grateful smile, her kind words. It was his duty to protect her, his desire to do so, and at that he had failed yesterday. He would not do so again.

"It's not your place to tell the princess whom she should or should not consort with."

Myrna sniffed. "That's rich coming from you, General."

"Pardon?"

She sneered up at him. "We all know about your affair with the princess."

Her words froze him mid-step, yet ire seared Seth's veins more surely than a dragon's flame. "How dare you–"

What would have happened then had the bolt not been slid back and the door creaked open, Seth could not say. He spun to see Princess Eirika herself pushing open the door. The flowing robes of a princess's gowns had been discarded in favour of her battle-ready wear, and a sword rested at her hip. Yesterday's events had drowned good cheer, but the determination on her features made his heart swell with pride even as he felt shamed by Myrna's words.

"Princess," he said with a bow.

She nodded but then turned her attention entirely on Myrna. "I'm here because my brother does not have time to deal with you." Myrna opened her mouth to speak, but Eirika barrelled on, her voice rising a notch, making it clear that she would brook no interruptions. "As hosts, we have guaranteed the safety of our guests, and any harm that comes to them stains our honour and that of Renais as a whole. If you wish to avoid shaming Renais before the other nations of this continent, you _will_ tell us what you know."

Myrna shifted, arms still crossed over her chest, but unwilling to look up to meet Eirika's eyes. "It wasn't me," she grumbled. Eirika did not speak and raised a hand to tell Seth that he should remain silent as well. "But..."

"Yes?"

"But maybe you should talk to that little mage friend of yours. The one who's always got a tome tucked under her arm? Talks funny."

Eirika's eyes narrowed. "You mean Lute. Why should I speak to her?"

The princess's ability to remain calm even as Myrna goaded her, calmed him in turn. Eirika had grown so much over the past year, from a girl, naive and innocent, to a soldier and a monarch. She was the strength Renais needed now, and all he wished in that moment was to serve her and be her strength in return.

"I saw her sneaking around the courtyard yesterday morning, following the Grado mages. Maybe she was aiming for them and not that wyvern rider."

Eirika's lips thinned and Seth shifted uneasily. He'd known Lute had been in the courtyard; she'd admitted as much in their interview yesterday, but "sneaking"?

Myrna shrugged. "It's no secret that she doesn't trust dark mages. And dark mages always come from Grado, don't they? They're all just like their dead prince."

"Enough," Eirika snapped. Her knuckles turned white, so tightly did she clench her fists at her sides. Her eyes blazed, but when she spoke again her tone was level. "I believe you've said quite enough."

She spun on her heel and marched towards the door. "Seth, I need to speak to you."

"Yes, my lady," he replied and followed after her. As he did, he thought he caught a smug expression on Myrna's face.

#

Seth followed the princess to a neighbouring room where they could speak privately. She let out a long breath. "That woman is very vexing."

"You put it kindly, milady."

When she spoke again, she looked tired, as if the confrontation with Myrna had leeched her stamina. "Lute again." And then, shaking her head, "How did she get tangled up in all this?" She paced across the room, pausing before the arrow slits in the wall, her back to Seth.

"I do not believe Lute would harm anyone of her own free will," Seth said, "much less her comrades from the war, but if we're to consider all possibilities..."

Eirika glanced over her shoulder at him. "I'm not certain I like what you're implying, Seth."

"Forgive me, my lady, but is there no chance that Lute may be possessed in some manner? There is precedent for such things and she is often involved in arcane research."

Palms pressed against the stone wall, it looked to Seth as if Eirika were trying to draw strength from their solidity. He reached out, but stopped when Myrna's words thundered again through his thoughts. _Your affair with the princess_. He could feel his face grow hot with shame and was glad Eirika's back remained to him.

"No," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "No there would be some sign. She would not seem herself. And I know her research of late has tended in other directions."

"We _must_ consider it."

Shaking her head, she turned to face him, her eyes bright. "I pray you're wrong, Seth."

Improper as it was, for a moment he found himself staring into her pale blue eyes, but then Myrna's mocking words echoed in his thoughts once more, and he looked away. "Seth... You were upset earlier when I came in."

He shook his head. "It was nothing, my lady. Mere insolence." And then, his mind turning once more to the look on Myrna's face as he had left to follow the princess, "I should be going."

Turning away from her, he made as if to step towards the door, and froze as he felt Eirika grip his arm. When he glanced down, he could see those long, slender fingers curled around his sleeve. Her nails were well manicured and clean, though during the war they had been as dirty and ragged as any soldier's. The calluses on her hands, he knew, remained, for she kept up her swordsmanship even now.

"You shouldn't listen to idle gossip," Eirika said. He could feel her eyes on him, yet he could not look at her.

"What I said once before remains true. You have been too close to me." Those pale fingers tightened around his arm. "It's not proper. That they should think– That–"

"Seth." He turned then to meet her eyes. "I don't care what they say."

"But, my lady, your honour–"

She put a finger to his lips. "Is less important to me than you are."

And to that Seth had no reply.

"There's to be a meeting with Knoll shortly. You'll be wanted."

"Of course," he said and ducked into a bow.

They walked the hallways in silence, heading for the meeting room. It was only after a few minutes that Eirika spoke. "After things have settled, we should talk about... the impediment."

His heart very nearly leaped out of his chest. The Council of Knights, the one thing that prevented the possibility of their marriage–an impediment indeed.

"My lady," he began, pausing before the doorway to the meeting room.

He got no further as a rush of heat, followed by an orange burst of flame, flashed through the meeting room and into the chamber where they stood.


	5. Four: Murder

_They say that love is cruel_

_And many a scar you'll gain_

_I know it to be true now_

_For my tender heart is slain_

_If love be a crime_

_Then guilty am I_

_And I'll happily do my time, my time_

_I'll happily do my time_

– Renais folk song

**Four: Murder**

Seth flattened himself against the wall, back to the doorway, covering Eirika as best he could. Heat seared his lungs as he drew in a breath – but only one breath, and then the heat seemed to ebb away to something tolerable.

When he darted a glance over his shoulder, he could see thick smoke, tinged by an orange glow, billowing from the meeting room. The sound of flames was quickly joined by screams. He turned his attention to Eirika as she gasped. "My lady, are you–"

"Yes, I'm fine."

"Get help," he said before diving through the doorway and into the inferno.

Among those he'd set to keep guard on the Grado mages were Kyle and Forde. The pair of them had been inside the room and both now stirred, picking themselves up from the floor. Cormag was nearby and he, too, was pulling himself up, blood oozing from a cut on the side of his face.

Three of the walls were covered by tapestries and it was on these that the fire fed. The one on the left wall was almost entirely consumed, and tongues flames lapped at the one on the far wall. Through the smoke that billowed up to the ceiling, gathering like storm clouds, Seth could see several robed forms on the floor. Some were on their hands and knees, coughing and trying to get their bearings; others were not moving.

"Forde," Seth said, grabbing him by the arm and helping him to haul himself to his feet. Forde looked dazed for an instant and then snapped to attention.

"General!"

"You and Kyle get the wounded out of here. I'll–"

Coughing in the smoke, Cormag stumbled over to them. He nodded to the tapestry at the back of the room. "I'll help you tear it down before the fire spreads."

Seth nodded his thanks and together they raced to the back of the of the room, moving along the right hand wall, as far from the blazing fire as they could get. Flames were licking at the topmost part of the tapestry. Seth grabbed hold of the side and, with a nod to Cormag who was at the other edge, tugged as hard as he could. The brackets holding the tapestry in place gave way and it slumped to the stone floor. Without pause, they set to stamping out the flames, even as the smoke from the main fire grew denser around them.

Seth's throat was raw from the smoke, and the fire's heat was like a dragon's breath on his skin, but between the two of them he and Cormag managed to drag the heavy tapestry out of the room and return for the second one. They almost stumbled over Forde who was carrying a wounded mage on his back even as coughs racked his chest from the billowing smoke.

By the time they had gotten to the doorway with the second tapestry, help had finally arrived in the form of Artur and Lute along with a small army of servants wielding buckets. Lute stood by a huge tub alternately casting ice spells and then melting the ice with a fire spell so that the buckets could be filled and the water flung onto the flames. Artur was already seeing to the injured.

It troubled him for a moment that she had arrived so quickly. But then his attention turned to more pressing matters.

"Are all... the wounded out?" Seth managed to ask Forde and Kyle between bouts of coughing.

Kyle replied with a raspy, "Yes, General," before beginning to cough.

They stumbled out of the way of the group fighting the flames. Seth's throat burned as if he had swallowed the flames themselves rather than only the smoke, and his chest ached with wracking coughs. He pressed his back against the cool stone wall of the chamber, willing himself to breathe evenly – to little effect.

"Seth!"

He glanced up as he heard his name through the cacophony of shouts for water and for aid. Eyes still stinging from smoke, he had to blink several times to see her clearly. The princess, a handkerchief pressed over her mouth, was making her way toward him. "Seth, are you all right?"

"My la–" was as far as he got before another bout of coughing stopped him.

She squeezed his arm. "I'll get a healer," she said, but he snagged her wrist before she could turn away and he shook his head.

"No," he croaked. "The others first."

"Seth..."

"Just get me... to a window."

Her lips thinned to a line, but she nodded and, taking his arm, led him through the crowd and several chambers until they reached an area that was free of smoke, where he could lean out of a window and draw in deep breaths of the cool, spring air.

He remained there at the window for a long while, gulping in the fresh air. Eirika stayed with him, her hand rubbing his back soothingly, her touch a small luxury that could be afforded under such circumstances. When he was able to breathe again with only the occasional cough, he turned to her and croaked out a "Thank you, my lady."

She looked him over as if still concerned that he might be injured. Finally she took her handkerchief and wiped away some of the soot on his face. "You look a bit singed," she said.

"I'm fine," he assured her.

"I still want to have a healer take a look at–"

"General Seth?"

They both spun at the sound his name and the approaching footfalls that accompanied it. A moment later Natasha entered the chamber. Her footsteps faltered when she saw them. "Oh, Princess Eirika. Excuse me. I was told the general had gone this way and that he might require assistance."

"Yes," Eirika said with a nod. "He does."

"What about the others?" Seth asked, his voice still as rough as tree bark.

"They're being seen to," Natasha replied as her eyes scanned him up and down.

"I breathed in some of the smoke. That's all," he said. "You should not be walking alone, Sister Natasha. You may well be a target yourself." Eirika had drawn away to let Natasha work, but Seth noticed the way the princess's brow creased, her shoulders tensing as she watched the healer.

Natasha shook her head. "Seared lungs should not go untreated, General. During the war you promised you would seek healing when you were injured. I hardly think you should forget that promise simply because the war is at an end."

"And you promised to not be reckless with your safety," he retorted. His eyes darted over Natasha's shoulder to Eirika in time to see something flit over her features, only to be replaced by the mask of calm assurance she had so often adopted during the war. "What about the others?"

"First..." she said and raised her staff. He heaved a sigh and nodded.

He closed his eyes as he felt the healing magic swirling around him, through him, seeming to tickle through his pores. The burning in his lungs faded away, as did the rawness of his throat.

He bowed his head slightly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, General Seth." She was smiling. "It's always a pleasure to treat you." And then, her cheeks suddenly flushed, "Not that I mean that I enjoy seeing you injured of course."

"I understand, Sister. But please... about the others..."

Natasha bit her lip. "They were already being moved to the infirmary when I arrived, so I... went in search of you."

Had Eirika's hand flitted over her sword hilt just now? Surely he'd imagined that...

#

As they made their way to the infirmary, Natasha walked next to Eirika while Seth trailed behind them, spine straight, alert for the would-be assassin. Eirika felt a twinge of guilt, knowing that she was keeping close to Natasha not to protect the healer, but simply to keep her from walking by Seth's side. She resisted the urge to glance over her shoulder to see where his eyes lingered.

When Eirika arrived at the infirmary, a sickly sweet scent hovered in the air, like overcooked meat. After fighting mages during the war, she knew it for the scent of charred flesh.

Magic could cure many things, so it was rare for the castle's infirmary to have more than one or two cots filled at once. Healing staves were powerful, but they did have limits: wasting illnesses, chronic conditions, and some grievous wounds could not be fully healed even by a staff's magic. Seth knew this better than anyone, for he still suffered from an ache in his right shoulder where Valter's lance had slipped through his armour. Badly broken bones and tissue sometimes required several treatments to fully knit back together. And then there were wounds that were too great, too deep, or simply not seen to in time.

"Sister Natasha," the head healer called out when he saw her enter. His robes were smeared with blood and he was being supported by an apprentice.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

He nodded. "I'm afraid I over exerted myself. Two of the cases are serious. They're resting at the back. We've done all we're able for the present."

"I'll do what I can to aid them," Natasha said and then glided away to the far end of the infirmary, her robes fluttering about her like a swan's wings.

_Is it blasphemous to feel jealous of a healer?_

Certainly this was not the time to worry about such things, but the niggling thoughts would not leave Eirika be, even now.

She and Seth moved more slowly down the aisle. Several of the Grado mages were lying on cots and looked to be sleeping soundly. The others remained clustered at the back of the room around two of the cots. Natasha's graceful flight came to an abrupt halt when she reached them. "Knoll!" she gasped. Seth and Eirika exchanged a look and quickened their pace.

A man lay in one of the cots, a sheet draped over his waist, his chest bare. The skin below his navel looked slightly pink, but otherwise untouched, but everything above that was a splotchy mix of gray and violent red. His face was so swollen that Eirika didn't recognise him until his eyes flickered open and fixed on Natasha.

He tried to move and pain washed over his features. Natasha took one of his hands, which remained unburned, wrapping it in both of hers. "Don't try to move," she said. "And don't speak. You need to rest and heal, Knoll."

Natasha's voice was steady, though Eirika noticed a trickle of tears down her cheeks. Knoll must have understood, for he closed his eyes again. Natasha set down his hand and raised her staff, murmuring words to bring peaceful sleep. She spared a moment to wipe away her tears and then turned her attention to the second cot.

She stared.

"Is this..." she trailed off, turning to the other Grado mages.

"It's Vengar," one of them said, Kelri, Eirika realized, the mage who'd been so vocal last night at dinner. Her dark curls were singed away on one side and soot smudged her face and hands, but she seemed not to notice as she stared down at Vengar.

Only the mage's face was visible. His skin was so charred that it looked more like scales than skin. It covered his face in thick, brittle patches, dry and crumbling, unlike the wet, fleshy burns that covered Knoll's face and chest. "I've never seen burns like this," Natasha whispered.

Taking a deep breath, she turned to the assembled group. "It would be easier to work without an audience, and these men need their rest."

Seth stepped forward. "I need to speak with all of you about what happened. If you would follow me..."

For a moment Eirika squeezed her eyes shut, blotting out the scene. Confusion, anger, and fear, all ran riot within; it was as if she were back in the war, having to deal with turmoil and violence at every turn. It should not be like this, not here at home, not when the war was over. But if the war had taught her anything, it was that safety was illusory, a fairy tale people told themselves to ward off the terrible uncertainty of the changeable world around them.

Eirika took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and steeled herself. That too, she had learned during the war.


	6. Five: Theft

_They say that love is like a thief_

_It creeps up in the night_

_And steals your heart away from you_

_And you don't put up a fight_

_If love be a crime_

_Then guilty am I_

_And I'll happily do my time, my time_

_I'll happily do my time_

– Renais folk song

**Five: Theft**

"What do you mean they didn't see anything?" Ephraim leaned forward, elbows on his desk, brow furrow.

Seth shook his head. "That's what the mages said. They were gathered in the room for the meeting. Knoll and another mage – Vengar – were on the left side of the chamber. The others were scattered about the room. And then all at once there was a great burst of flame that engulfed both of them and then spread to the tapestry. They saw no intruder, nor anything unusual before it happened."

Ephraim struck his open palm with a fist. "It doesn't make any sense. And no message this time?"

"None, my lord."

With a growl of frustration, Ephraim crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back into his chair. It was difficult to believe so much had happened in only two days. When he'd risen yesterday, all had been calm, normal. The morning had been cool and sunny, the sound of chisels and hammers from the stonemasons' repairs like a song of healing for the castle, and for their nation. And now someone was throwing salt into those unhealed wounds.

"I trust you've set a guard on the infirmary and all our Grado guests... and our mages."

"Yes, milord. My best soldiers."

Ephraim sighed. "I suppose we ought to be grateful Franz and Amelia are away in Grado or our would-be assassin would have one more target." And then, heart heavy, he asked the thing he was most reluctant to, "You said that Lute was a suspect?"

Seth nodded gravely. "We have no others at present."

"It makes no sense. I–" They turned at the sound of a knock on the study door. "Come in," Ephraim called out.

Ephraim felt a slight pang when he noticed how Eirika's eyes went first to Seth. As twins they had always shared a special bond, and though he knew nothing could diminish that, he still felt a twinge, as if he'd been demoted somehow. He supposed he ought to take umbrage at the notion that a mere knight should monopolize Eirika's attention and – by the looks of it – her affection. But in some things he was more a brother than a king, and he much preferred the idea of her marrying below her rank than of her marrying someone who would take her away from Renais.

"Someone needs to speak with you," Eirika said.

"All right," Ephraim replied. "Come in."

He wasn't sure who he had expected, but it certainly wasn't Lute and Artur. Peering at the mage and the healer, eyebrows raised, he motioned for them to sit. Artur slumped into a padded chair, fidgeting, while Lute sat ramrod straight with the air of one about to walk to an execution. Seth was eyeing Lute uneasily, as if expecting her to turn into a dragon at any moment. His hand hovered close to his hilt.

Eirika came to stand behind them and placed a hand on each one's shoulder. "It's all right. Tell Ephraim what you told me. I promise he won't be angry." She looked pointedly at him. He quirked an eyebrow and nodded.

"Go on."

It was Artur who began. "When we spoke to General Seth yesterday–" And there he paused to cast an anxious glance at Seth.

"Please, Artur, go on," Seth said, his features calm.

"I– we– well we left something out."

"Oh?" Again, Seth's tone was carefully neutral, displaying neither impatience, nor anger. He sounded merely curious, as if they were discussing a new recipe for venison that the cook had planned for supper.

"There was a book in the library the other day."

"There are a great many books in the library on most days," Ephraim remarked. Eirika shot him a reproachful look, but really how could he have passed that one up?

"Well yes," Artur amended, his face now nearly as red as his hair, "but this one was very old and, I believe, very dangerous. It showed marks of having been sealed long ago. But the seal had been broken and Lute stumbled upon it."

"It was a fascinating tome," Lute put in.

"But you see," Artur continued, "it contained a powerful summoning spell. And when I went to look at the book again later that day the page had been cut out."

"A summoning spell?" Ephraim repeated. "Why didn't you mention this to Seth?"

Artur, cheeks redder than ever, darted a glance in Lute's direction. "I thought Lute was the one who'd removed it."

Ephraim's eyes turned to Lute as she spoke. "In an effort to make a full disclosure, I should inform you that I, too, was aware the page was missing, but didn't speak of it because I thought Artur had done it. He was so adamant that the spell was dangerous that I was led to the mistaken conclusion that he had removed it from the tome."

Drawing in a deep breath, Ephraim allowed the implications of this new information to sink in.

"We were coming to tell you about this, General Seth, when the fire broke out. That's why we arrived at the scene so quickly," Artur explained. "I'm very sorry. We never thought..."

"It's all right," Ephraim said. "We don't even know for certain that it's connected."

"That's incorrect, your highness," Lute announced. Ephraim smothered a smile. It was nice to have a few people around who never stopped to worry about decorum.

"Oh?"

"The nature of the summon spell suggests that it's almost certainly related to the incidents."

"How so?"

"I'm not as well versed in dark magics as I would like to be," Lute admitted, "but the summon is like nothing I've encountered before. It allows the caster to summon more than a simple phantom. Instead it enables them to call up the spirit of a dragon."

It took all of Ephraim's self-control not to leap out of his chair. "A dragon? You mean they would be able to wield dragon fire? Like Myrrh?" Myrrh's destructive power in her dragon form had been a spectacle of awe and terror. That a dark mage could wield such a force...

Lute shrugged. "Perhaps. But the spell was very complex and the magic arcane. If a dark mage attempted to use the spell immediately without spending the proper time studying it and the rest of the tome, then it's very likely that it wouldn't function properly. Using spells that one doesn't understand fully can have devastating effects both on the mage himself and his surroundings."

"Artur, tell me," Ephraim began, his voice tight, "aside from our guests, we only have one dark mage in residence, don't we?"

"Yes, your highness. But she left for Frelia three days ago to visit family."

Seth stood so quickly that he knocked over his chair. "The infirmary," was all he said before he went dashing out the door.

Eirika's eyes darted from Seth's retreating form to Ephraim. "Go," Ephraim said, rising. "We'll send someone there." And then she took off running. At that moment he found himself wishing that he could go after them, but a king could not throw himself into the dragon's maw as it were. "Guards!" he shouted. He could not take care of this himself, but he would make sure that if there were another incident, there would be a small army ready to deal with it this time.


	7. Six: Abduction

_To your family I shall go_

_And for your hand I'll pray_

_But if their answer should be 'no'_

_I'll carry you away_

_If love be a crime_

_Then guilty am I_

_And I'll happily do my time, my time_

_I'll happily do my time_

– Renais folk song

**Six: Abduction**

Seth could smell smoke before he even reached the infirmary. He heard a woman's shriek just as got to reached the doorway.

"Natasha!" he called out. "Are you all right?"

A voice as dry as Jehanna's sands and as broken as the crags of Caer Pelyn answered him. "Do not come any further, knight, if you value the healer's life." Seth froze in place. The sound of raspy breathing filled the room.

"Show yourself," Seth said, hand wrapped around the hilt of his sheathed sword.

"Seth!" Natasha's voice, raw with panic turned his blood icy, but he remained in place, lest her attacker should harm her. "Look out!"

He could feel the heat before he saw the jet of flame that burst from one of the far corners of the infirmary. Rolling away, Seth felt a wave of heat, searing the back of his neck. In one fluid motion, he was back on his feet, sword drawn. He turned in time to see a figure draped in a healer's white robes. His face and hands were visible, the skin was blackened and cracked like chips of charcoal. One of those blackened hands was wrapped around Natasha's throat.

Seth's eyes widened, his face twisting into a grimace. "Vengar?"

"Yes," he replied though the 's' lingered, drawn out into a low hiss. His pupils were red and slitted. Vengar's jaw opened and Seth glimpsed bright embers dancing behind his teeth. With a grating cry, Vengar drew in a breath and Seth threw himself down again as a jet of flame raced toward him.

White hot, something flitted against his skin, his left arm. He pushed it aside, focussed on his surroundings. There was the sound of footfalls racing to one side of the room. Seth looked up only to see Vengar running full tilt toward the unshuttered window, dragging Natasha along with him. She screamed as they vaulted out of the window.

Heart in his throat, Seth scrambled to his feet and raced to the window. He had expected to see a pair of bodies on the cobblestones below, but there was nothing – nothing save a strange grating sound. He leaned against the window frame and looked below him down the side of the castle wall only to see Vengar, one hand – no, one _talon_ – digging into the stone, allowing him to slide down the wall. His other arm was clutched around Natasha's waist, pressing her close.

Seth tore out of the infirmary. Vengar would be on the ground in a moment. The castle guards would be ill-prepared to face dragon fire and Vengar would surely make quick work of them. By the time Seth reached the stables, the castle courtyard was already filled with billowing smoke and calls for water and for aid.

#

During the course of the war and in the aftermath of the earthquake in Grado, Natasha had faced danger many times and faced down her own mortality more than once. She had seen men cut down before her eyes, seen suffering beyond imagination visited on those who seemed least deserving of it. She had learned to stay calm in the heart of chaos. Yet even after all these things, the feeling of the charred, scale-like flesh, hot against her skin, filled her with revulsion and made her entire body tremble with fright.

Vengar had easily dealt with the soldiers he had faced in the castle. He'd tried to steal one of their horses but the beast had reared just at the sight of him and so he had given up and raced away on foot, carrying her under his arm like a doll. His grip was steely and all her squirming did not so much as make him adjust his vice-like hold. Pressed close against his side, Natasha could feel the warmth from his body, even through the robe he had stolen to garb himself. It was like being pushed up against a cooking cauldron, so intense was the heat that poured from him.

He ran as if he did not know weariness. For a moment she had wild visions of being carried away to Grado or Jehanna perhaps – surely the desert sands had never been so hot as Vengar's charred skin – but then his pace slowed. In spite of his warmth, a chill shuddered through her when she raised her head and saw the gray stone markers all around them. It was the graveyard some distance outside Castle Renais.

And then she could not stop shivering.

She was startled when he dropped her to the ground, and she shut her eyes, revelling in the coolness of the earth. She looked up only when she heard an angry hiss. His speech was slow and sibilant. "You must heal me."

"What?"

"Heal me!"

"But I – I tried. In the infirmary – I was trying before you..." Before he had sprung from his cot and seized her by the throat. She had been puzzling over his strange wounds, the scale-like crust on his skin. "What's happened to you?"

"The book. The spell of summoning of the fire dragon."

"Vengar, I don't understand..."

"It is... changing me." A wisp of smoke wafted from his nostrils and his slitted eyes seemed filled with a smouldering light. "Heal me!"

She was shocked to realized she'd managed to keep her grip on her healing staff throughout the ordeal. In truth, she held it still in a white-knuckled grip and her hands ached as she loosed them from around the staff. "Were you the one who attacked Cormag? And Knoll?"

Sparks spat from his mouth and nose. That was answer enough. It was fortunate she was on the ground, for her knees were like water and she knew she would not have been able to stand. He had tried to kill the others. Surely she would be included along with Knoll and Cormag, for she too had tried to save Grado by turning to Renais.

"Why?" she breathed.

"To avenge the prince."

"Prince Lyon? You were one of his researchers, weren't you?"

"I was. We sought to save Grado from its fate. But all our efforts were wasted thanks to traitors like Knoll. Like Cormag. Like..." His gaze rested on her and she felt as if she were staring into the flames of a kiln.

"We were trying to save Grado too."

He spat and the long grass around a nearby grave marker began to smoke. Kneeling on the earth, all Natasha could see were grave stones inscribed with the names of knights and nobles. She backed away from Vengar until her back was pressed against the cool stone of one of the markers. He glowered at her, his eyes a pair of bright embers, slitted with black.

He was going to kill her. Whether she could heal him or not – and not seemed the most likely – he intended to do to her what he had done to Knoll. Or worse. They would arrive here only to find a pile of bones, charred black. She shuddered, seeing it all very clearly, pained as she thought of General Seth riding into the graveyard to make the grisly discovery. He would blame himself; he always did. She had rarely met a man so intent on protecting others, or so crushed when he failed to.

"I can't heal you," she whispered. "If you've been transformed... A healing staff can only heal injuries."

She did not look at him as he advanced towards her. She looked past him, at the headstones that surrounded her at eye level, gathered like a crowd of stone-faced onlookers, a mute audience of her final moments.

So loud was the pounding of her heart that she at first confused it with the pounding of hooves.

Vengar spun to face the new arrival, General Seth, his hair flame-bright in the sunshine, but different than normal, for he did not shine atop his steed. Fear washed over her like an icy breaker as she realized that he had charged out of the castle without waiting to don his armour.

Seth's mount reared as Vengar snorted embers and smoke, but the general was a master horseman and his war steed well trained. He managed to steady the horse and approach Vengar, sword drawn. A gout of flame erupted from Vengar's mouth, but Seth had already changed his course, weaving between the headstones. The air around him shimmered with heat but he never slowed.

Vengar stumbled back, raising hands whose curved digits were more talons than fingers now, each tipped with a scythe-like claw. He batted away Seth's sword as it swooped toward him. The blade clanged against his talons as if it had struck steel. Vengar backed away, talons raised.

Weaving between pairs of tall monuments, Vengar managed to put some distance between himself and the knight, whose mount could not manoeuver so easily through the rows of headstones. Yet Natasha could see them all the while. She knew the sensible thing to do would be to run, to get away from the fighting, but abandoning the general when he might need her aid was out of the question. Staff clutched in her hands, she prayed that the Everlasting would watch over the Silver Knight.

Yet even as the prayer was on her tongue, she saw Vengar's chest puff out as he drew in a deep breath. A gout of flame erupted from his blackened lips. For a terrifying moment she was certain Seth was too close, that he would be turned to a burnt husk that even her magic could not heal.

Seth managed to veer away, but Vengar's talons slashed towards him as he passed close. Natasha' heart skipped as she thought she saw a grimace on the general's face. Bringing his horse around again, Seth turned once more to face Vengar. "Yield and your life will be spared," Seth announced.

A sound akin to crunching stone poured from Vengar's throat. "Life?" He held out his blackened hands, dark like coal against the white robes he wore. There was blood on his talons. "Like this?" It came out as a sibilant hiss and Natasha could see nothing human any longer in those slitted eyes.

Seth charged down the row of headstones. She did not see the dagger he'd drawn from his belt until it was in his hand and flying towards Vengar. Unused to fighting, the mage's reflex was to raise his arms to block. The steel blade clanged off the hardened scales on his arms and fell to the ground, but it had served its purpose for Seth was once more within striking distance. His sword bit deep into the black scales.

Vengar's slitted eyes widened. His white robes were stained with scarlet, blossoming ever faster. Natasha watched the sparks behind those terrible eyes flicker and fade before he fell.

Seth wasted no time in coming to her side and pulling her up into the saddle in front of him. "Are you well?" he asked, the concern in his voice genuine and familiar.

"Yes," she replied, though she could feel her body trembling. "I'm all right."

As they rode back towards Castle Renais, it was several minutes before Natasha quite realized that the sticky warmth she felt against her back was the general's blood.


	8. Seven: Passion

_Not soon enough will come the day_

_When you and I will wed_

_And I take you off to our new home_

_And to our marriage bed_

_If love be a crime_

_Then guilty am I_

_And I'll happily do my time, my time_

_I'll happily do my time_

– Renais folk song

**Seven: Passion**

Smoke stung her eyes as Eirika passed water down the line. Somewhere ahead, amidst the smoke, water was being sloshed onto the blaze that had caught in the stables. Groomsmen had already evacuated the horses, though several of the men and women had taken injuries from the panicked beasts. The taste of ash on her lips brought back memories of desert sands, of Jehanna and the conflagration that had consumed the palace there.

"It's out!" she heard from somewhere ahead. "We're clear!" The call was passed down the line, and though relief gladdened her heart, Eirika could not relax. She had arrived in the courtyard in time to see Seth race out on his charger unarmoured, bearing only a sword. Without the shell of his armour he seemed not the Silver Knight, but only a man. He looked so normal, so human, so... vulnerable.

Coughing from the acrid smoke, Eirika was about to make her way up to the gatehouse to watch the road for him, when she heard the call from the guard. "It's Sir Seth!"

Slumping back against the stone walls of the castle, Eirika let out a long breath. He was alive. He was safe. Through the haze of smoke she could see Ephraim shouting orders, trying to calm the mess of men and horses racing about the courtyard. She glimpsed Artur settling Lute down on a stack of barrels. The mage looked haggard; she had been providing the bulk of the water used to fight the flames, and though she was greatly skilled, such work was draining.

Safe. They were all safe.

It was only when she finally saw him ride through the gates that Eirika felt the tension drain from her body, even as her stomach worked itself into knots at the sight of Natasha in the saddle with him. Her relief turned to worry once more when she saw the bright splashes of blood on Natasha's white robes. For a moment, concern for the healer eclipsed her earlier irritation, and her thoughts swirled with confusion, for Natasha looked quite well in spite of the red splotches on her clothes.

But then Eirika's eyes fell on Seth's face.

His skin was pale, almost grey, and his chest heaved for breath. She had seen him like that once before, the night they had raced away from Renais after Valter had injured him. Natasha slid out of the saddle, leaving Eirika a clear view of his tabard, which was soaked through with blood on the left side. She wanted to go to him, to help him out of the saddle, to offer him aid, but instead remained rooted to the spot as Natasha herself performed that office. He leaned on the healer as he dismounted, nearly stumbling as his feet hit the ground. He straightened then, gripping the pommel of his saddle to steady himself.

Eirika watched as Natasha raised her staff and a pale blue glow blossomed around the top. A light of the same colour pulsed around Seth's wound, seemed to seep into his side, and then slowly faded. He closed his eyes for moment, but his face was relaxed now and free of pain.

How she could feel horrified and worried and envious all at once, Eirika could hardly guess, but while her greatest wish was to go to him, her limbs remained leaden and she could only watch as Natasha lay a hand on his arm. Her lips moved, but Eirika was too far away to hear the words. Seth's reply, too, was lost to her. Words of thanks, she supposed, but her mind supplied other possibilities, other words he might speak to the healer who stood before him like a ruffled swan, both victim and saviour.

Seth raised his head and glanced across the courtyard in her direction. What she wanted most was to go to him, but instead she found herself retreating into the castle, into the safety of its stone walls, its familiar corridors. She made her way to the gardens, to a quiet nook where she often sat on a stone bench and listened to the trickling water of the fountain. When, some while later, she heard approaching footsteps, she fully expected her brother, and she steeled herself for the teasing that would come hand in hand with his comfort. She glanced up, instead, to see Seth, his face still paler than it should have been, his tabard still wet with blood.

"Lady Eirika..."

"Seth!" she said, springing to her feet. "Oh! You shouldn't be– Your injury – you should be resting." He opened his mouth to speak but she cut across him, pointing to the bench, "Sit down at least."

Seth nodded and took slow steps towards the bench. He looked like a man who had walked from Carcino to Renais without stopping to rest. "Are you all right?" she asked, her eyes lingering over the tabard. Through a trio of long tears in the fabric she glimpsed skin, pale but healed and whole with not even a scar to show for the wound he'd taken.

"Yes. Only a little tired."

"You should be resting not–"

"Forgive me, my lady, I needed to speak to you. You left quite... abruptly."

She glanced away, letting her eyes linger on the white and purple lilacs nearby. "I'm glad you're safe. I was so afraid that..." She shook herself and glanced at him again. "What about Vengar?"

"He won't trouble us any longer."

"I see."

Her hands, interlaced in her lap, went rigid when he spoke again. "That isn't what I wished to speak to you about."

She kept her eyes on her hands. "Oh?"

"Sister Natasha–"

"I see how she smiles at you, Seth."

He stiffened and when he spoke it was in a low, quiet tone, as if he were afraid of being overheard, though they were the only two in the gardens. "You know my feelings, princess."

Glancing up at his face she saw there that mixture of kindness and earnestness that was so familiar to her. The urge to brush back a stray lock of russet hair from his forehead nearly overwhelmed her, but she mastered it and only smiled wanly at him. "Yes, but does that mean I should expect you to pine away forever?"

"Lady Eirika..."

She returned her gaze to her clasped hands. The sound of the fountain no longer brought comfort; it reminded her only of time trickling by, washing away the few moments that they would ever share together. "You'll tire of this someday and marry. While I'll remain a childless old maid."

She started as she felt his hand over hers. He smiled, a little sadly, she thought. "I would not have that."

"You'd prefer the alternative? That I should be married off in a political alliance? After everything we've been through, could you watch that happen, Seth? Could you really see me wed to Innes or some other foreign lord – Joshua perhaps?"

Seth scowled. "Joshua?"

Eirika's lips twitched. "He is a king."

"A rascal king."

"But a king nonetheless." Smiling, she reached out to smooth the lines of his forehead. "You can't even hear talk of it without looking like a thundercloud." He caught her hand and held it in both of his. Eirika sighed. "I don't wish to see you unhappy... yet at the same time I–" She forced back the image of Natasha in the saddle with him where she herself had once ridden. "Yet I can't bear to see you with another. How can I let you go when..."

He brought her hand to his lips.

She drank in the sight of him: the strong lines of his face, pale as it might be just now, the way his russet hair tumbled over his brow, the hint of stubble on his chin. She tried to memorize him exactly as he was at that moment when he was not a knight, but only a man, one who cared for her in spite of everything.

And then she made a decision. "Seth," she began, drawing in a deep breath, "about the– the impediment–the Council..." He looked up at this, frowning. She gathered her courage and ploughed on. "I've looked into the matter–or rather I've had Lute looking into it–and I think there might be a way to circumvent the Council of Knights."

"Circumvent?" he said, uneasiness plain in his features and the sudden tension in his shoulders.

"I think it would be safer if you didn't know the details in advance. But, Seth..." She looked into his face then, into his eyes. "If I can find a way for us to be married, will you agree to it?"

"My lady, what you propose–whatever it may be–will it reflect poorly on you? Because I would not have you compromise your honour and position for my sake."

"For _our_ sake," she corrected, squeezing the hand that held hers. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course."

"Then do so. Please, Seth, will you agree to it?"

He dropped her hand at the sound of distant footsteps, drawing closer.

"Seth, will you?"

"Sir Seth?" called out a voice. One of the guards, she thought. "Princess? Are you here?"

He looked from the hallway to her and back again. "Seth," she hissed, her heart in a vice. She was afraid that if he did not reply that vice would crush her heart into a pulp.

Once more he glanced at her, his features flitting between confusion and panic, and then he gave a sharp nod. "Yes."

Freed from the vice, her heart now seemed determined to beat itself out of her chest. Eirika took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She stood and motioned sharply to Seth when he moved to stand as well. He remained seated. "Yes, we're back here," she called out.

The guard made his way to them and bowed. "Princess, General. King Ephraim was concerned by your sudden absence and asked us to look for you."

Eirika nodded. "I understand. Sir Seth was drained after Sister Natasha's healing." And then with a small smile, "And I insisted that he should sit and rest for a while."

"I'm quite all right now, my lady," Seth said.

She shot him a scathing glance. "You look half dead." She returned her attention to the guard. "Could you please see that Seth reaches his quarters? I'm sure my brother can wait a little longer before speaking to him."

"Of course, princess."

Seth rose and bowed once before following the guard. As she lingered there in the gardens, she thought she could still feel the heat of Seth's lips on her hand.

#

"You gave me a scare, you know," Ephraim said as he leaned back into the padded chair in his study. "A fire raging in the stables, the whole courtyard filled with smoke, a murderous half-dragon mage running about loose, and no one knew where the Princess of Renais was."

Eirika, sitting on a padded bench across from him, sighed. "I'm sorry. I just needed... some air."

He arched an eyebrow. "Oh?"

She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks and hated herself for it. A princess and a veteran of the war she might be, yet her brother could see right through her as if she were nothing more than a slip of a girl.

Ephraim rose and came to sit next to her, taking her hands, a bemused smile on his lips. "I think it's time we had a chat about Seth." Her eyes fell to her hands and she thought of the way Seth had held them in the garden in a rare show of affection. "If you want me to overrule the Council of Knights, I will."

She looked up at him, blinking quickly as gratitude overwhelmed her. For several moments all she could do was shake her head. "Thank you, Ephraim. Thank you." She raised a hand as he opened his mouth to speak. "But you needn't do so."

"Listen to me just this once. With all the empty and disputed holdings it will be years before the Council is reformed and able to give a unanimous dispensation. I will _not_ allow your happiness to be put on hold due to a technicality."

She smiled fondly at him. While it was true that her twin could be trying at times with all his teasing, she could not ask for a truer companion. Even as a king, he looked out for her. "Brother dear, you know Seth would never stand for that."

"I could overrule him too."

Eirika laughed. The very image of Seth's face were he commanded by the king of Renais to wed her... "He would be mortified." She sighed. "And then he would go on at length about how such a command would give the appearance that we'd been behaving in a disreputable manner."

His lips twitched. "Well we couldn't have that."

She gave his hands a squeeze and then rose to take a few paces across the small room. Her eyes wandered to the tapestry on the far wall without taking it in. "I need to ask a favour of you," she said without turning. "

"Something besides a royal decree?" he asked, humour in his voice.

"Yes, something else." The tapestry depicted a scene from the War of the Stones, the five rulers who would found the great nations of Magvel. "Do you remember learning about the rules of combat that governed our ancestors?"

"The basics, yes. I did actually pay attention to our lessons, you know." She glanced over at him, sceptical. "Well some of them anyway. Centuries ago, before the country had been divided into holdings with knights, rank was established by combat. Duels."

Eirika turned to face him, nodding her approval. "You always did pay attention when our history master was discussing warfare."

"The important parts," he said with a stately nod.

She rolled her eyes and continued the explanation. "Duels were how people won rank and the right to command others. It was how people became commanders, then rulers, and then kings."

Ephraim nodded. "Until one of our predecessors decided that a ruler couldn't spend all his time fighting duels, and made it an act of treason to challenge one of royal blood."

"That's right."

He leaned his arm onto the back of the bench and peered at her, eyebrows raised. "And the point of this history lesson is..."

Eirika tool a deep breath. "There's a loophole. And I want your help in exploiting it."


	9. Eight: Mutiny

_If my king or my commander_

_Should tell us to part ways_

_Then a rebel fast I will become_

_For I'll love you all my days_

_If love be a crime_

_Then guilty am I_

_And I'll happily do my time, my time_

_I'll happily do my time_

– Renais folk song

**Eight: Mutiny**

The sun was bright in the blue sky, turning the puddles from last night's rainfall into glittering pools like polished mirrors. The weather was rather discordant for today's business, Eirika thought. Too bright and clear for such a piece of deviousness.

"He's not going to like this," she muttered – not for the first time that morning – as she stood by Ephraim in the courtyard.

Ephraim tutted. "I'm your elder, just trust me for once."

Eirika turned to glance at him, incredulous. "You're my elder by four minutes."

"A very critical four minutes."

"Oh yes, brother dear, I can see the wisdom of the ages in your eyes."

A crowd was building in the courtyard. In a few more minutes, the majority of the castle population would be there at Ephraim's invitation. It took all of Eirika's willpower not to fidget. "This is your plan," he reminded her.

She rested her hand on the hilt of her sword, trying to draw calmness from its solidity. "I know," she said. "But... Ephraim, I'm not sure I like this either."

"It will be fine."

The courtyard was still littered with mounds of stone and timber as the reconstruction process continued. Boys and girls, children of the servants for the most part, were perched on them, using their higher vantage point to peer over the crowd of adults. Eirika scanned the crowd, looking for Seth. His russet hair was coppery in the sunlight, and she couldn't help but smile even as her stomach worked itself into knots. Forde and Kyle were with him. Off to one side, she spotted Cormag, leaning against a pile of timber. And near the front of the crowd, she was surprised to spot Natasha. She had barely left the infirmary in the three days since the attack and looked haggard, her eyes bloodshot and her features drawn.

Gathering around the prince and his brace of guards, the crowd was murmuring in low tones. After all, the summons this morning by the king was unusual to say the least. The noise swelled for a few moments as he raised his hands and then fell to a hush.

"Now that everyone's here, I think we can begin," Ephraim said with a nod. Dread raced through Eirika's veins. "Seth, would you come here?"

Looking perplexed Seth made his way through the knots of people and approached Ephraim, offering a bow once he drew near. "My Lord?"

"Seth," Ephraim began in a voice meant to carry over the crowd, "are you familiar with our country's ancient laws of combat?"

Seth appeared more baffled than ever. "My Lord?"

Wrapped around the hilt of her blade, Eirika's palm was slick. She stepped forward. "Seth." It came out as a sort of croak and she had to clear her throat before she could try again. He was looking at her now, his eyes wide, his brow furrowed. Perhaps she should have explained but... Her hand tightened around the hilt. But he might not have agreed to it then. "Seth," she began again, and this time her voice echoed through the courtyard. "I challenge you to a duel of rank." And she drew her sword.

The crowd roared as everyone spoke at once. But Seth was silent, frozen in place, staring.

"Please, Seth," she said, this time in a voice meant to carry only to him, "you must trust me."

"My lady, I do not understand. I cannot fight a duel with you. It would be treasonous."

Ephraim stepped in then, speaking loudly. "Could you repeat that last part so that everyone can hear it?"

Straightening, Seth nodded to the king and then turned to the onlookers. "I said that I cannot fight a duel with Princess Eirika as that would be an act of treason." Murmurs of agreement swept through the crowd. It was well known that to attack a member of the royal family was indeed treason, and punishable by execution.

Folding his hands behind his back, Ephraim nodded sagely. "Yes, yes. Treason, or, since you're a soldier, possibly mutiny as well." Her heart was hammering. Ephraim managed to look positively cheerful, however, as he carried on with the plan. "But actually, that's only the case if _you_ were to challenge _us_. Eirika is quite free to challenge you."

The loophole.

Horror was written plainly on Seth's features. He'd gone nearly as pale as he'd been a few days past when he'd been injured. Eirika wanted to step between them, the two men she loved most in the world, and put an end to this nonsense. But the sun glinted off the bared blade gripped in her hand.

She stepped toward him. "Draw your sword, Seth."

He backed up a step. "Lady Eirika, I _cannot_ fight you."

A faint smile touched her lips. "Of course you can. It's no different than when we spar."

"Eirika..."

"Please, Seth," she said, looking into his eyes, the rest of the world falling away, "trust me. Draw your sword."

He shut his eyes and looked, for a moment, as if he were whispering a prayer. He glanced at Ephraim who nodded, and then Seth drew his sword.

They stood in the centre of the courtyard, facing each other, swords drawn. The air was filled with the sound of chatter, of whispers and shocked exclamation. The very thought of their words swirled through Eirika's mind like a gritty breeze, choking her. Would Kyle, so steadfast and proper, be noting his disapproval to Forde? Was Cormag making some wry comment about the doings of Renais royalty? And Natasha–by the Gods! What must she be thinking?

Eirika raised her eyes to look into Seth's face, and the clamour fell away.

They moved closer, circling one another, and Eirika knew she would have to strike first. She darted forward. He blocked. She struck again. Once more his blade kept hers at bay. But he did not attack.

He was still hesitant; she could see it in the stiffness of his movements, normally fluid and easy. The thrumming of her pulse in her ears was deafening. What if this didn't work? If he refused to fight then all was lost. She wanted to scream his name, to plead with him that this was the only way, that if he loved her in earnest he would do this.

She attacked more fiercely.

Speed was her only advantage over him and she used it, darting in and out of his reach, so that he could not make full use of his greater strength. Just as he'd taught her. His gaze tracked her and he began to move more naturally, like a stream's water loosed by a spring thaw. When she darted in again, he was forced to counter in order to hold her at bay. She thrust; he parried. She lunged; he countered. And just like that they fell into the familiar rhythm of their sparring matches. Their blades rang with each meeting, a welcome melody.

Her brow was slick and her breath coming quickly, while Seth looked calm and fresh. She could feel the spring leaving her step, her movements becoming more laboured. As his blade swung towards her, she hastily raised her guard to block, and the full force of his blow rattled down her arms. She faltered, fell back. He moved in, pressing her, landing blow after blow, hammering her guard. Arms trembling, she swung her sword up again to block, but this time she could not take the force of his strike. Her knees buckled and the sword went flying from her aching hands to clatter on the cobblestones.

"I yield," she managed to get out, though her chest heaved and her heart was pounding against her ribs.

He sheathed his sword. He did not smile, and his air of concern and distress made her racing heart ache. "Lady Eirika, are you–"

"I'm fine," she assured him, looking up into his worried face. "Just winded."

He offered his hand. She took it, and as he pulled her up, the realization of what they'd done hit her. Feeling a little dizzy, she steadied herself against him.

Ephraim gave them not a moment to recover, for he marched over and thumped Seth on the back. "Congratulation, Seth," he said, loud enough for all to hear, "you're now, at least technically, a prince of Renais."

Seth blanched. "I–Wha–My Lord?"

"You won a duel of rank. That means you win Eirika's rank. So you're a prince now."

"Your highness, this is absurd."

Ephraim nodded, appearing to be in complete agreement. "I know, but that's what comes of law and justice being two different things." He leaned in closer and spoke so that only they could hear him. "Now, do you wish to marry my sister or not?"

Eirika's breath caught in her throat as Seth's gaze moved from Ephraim's face to hers... and then down to the hand still clasped in his. "I wish for it more than anything."

Her racing heart seemed to skip a beat. Standing there before everyone, she squeezed his hand and smiled so broadly she knew she must looked like a besotted ninny. But what did that matter now when he was looking at her with a fondness he no longer had to conceal behind his chill mask of decorum?

"Good," Ephraim said, a pleased smiled gracing his features. He then turned back to the assembled crowd and addressed them. "General Seth has requested my sister's hand in marriage. Until now I've been unable to grant his request due to the rules governing the Council of Knights and the disruption to that Council caused by the war." He paused then, waiting for the excited chatter of the onlookers to still. "But since the general has won his duel, he need only obtain the support of three peers to assume a rank equal to my sister's and wed her."

Of Seth's peers, the knights, Kyle and Forde were the only ones present, and Ephraim motioned for them to move forward. "What say you?" Ephraim asked them.

Eirika bit her lip; she had forgotten all about this part of the plan. Though the duel allowed Seth to bypass the need for a unanimous dispensation from the Council of Knights, it was true that the pledge of three fellow knights was required.

Kyle, looking rather uncomfortable, glanced from Seth to Ephraim. "Your Highness, this is... all very unusual." She couldn't breath. She shut her eyes and clenched Seth's hand in hers. _Please, Kyle, please understand._ "But I offer General Seth my support in his claim."

"And mine!" Forde chimed in. "And my brother's since he's not here."

Relief washed over her, leaving her knees wobbly and the rest of her drained.

Nodding his thanks, Ephraim turned then and spoke again to the assembled populace of the castle. "Then, with the condition that we confirm Sir Franz's support upon his return from Grado, I deem Seth a prince of Renais and accept his suit to wed my sister."

She thought the crowd cheered then. She thought there were whistles and hoots. She thought there were, but she couldn't be certain for the roar of her heartbeat.

Placing a hand on each of their shoulders, Ephraim leaned in and grinned. "We pulled it off. You should think of a nice present to give Lute for finding this loophole for you both."

But she barely heard. Seth was holding her hands and looking into her eyes with one of those small smiles of his that meant that he was very, very happy.


	10. Epilogue: Exoneration

_If love makes me a criminal_

_Then I'll take what I am given_

_But I hope that when the time is come_

_That I will be forgiven_

_If love be a crime_

_Then guilty am I_

_And I'll happily do my time, my time_

_I'll happily do my time_

– Renais folk song

**Epilogue: Exoneration**

As he crossed the courtyard, Seth drew in a deep breath, inhaling the scents of hay and horses mingled now with lilac. With the late spring sun brightening the Renais countryside and a warm breeze hinting at summer months to come, it was a fine day for travel. He was glad his comrades had such good weather on the day they were due to depart. It would make things easier for Knoll.

On the castle walkway overhead he spotted Lute and Artur walking together arm in arm, and winced inwardly. Seth hoped Artur would hold her attention for until he was done here. The last time Seth had seen Lute it had been to thank her for her discovery of the loophole. She had then, with great gravity, suggested to him that a traditional manner of thanking someone for such assistance was to name their first child after that person. He was hoping she would forget the matter entirely. Or that Eirika would bear sons.

Ahead, Cormag was tightening the girth of his wyvern's saddle. The wyvern swivelled its head to snort at Cormag, who only gave the great beast's nose a shove and returned his attention to securing his saddle. He paused, though, when he saw Seth approaching.

"Came to wish me farewell, did you, Prince Seth?"

Seth grimaced. "Please, do _not_ address me as such. It's only a technicality, one which everyone has agreed to overlook."

The grin Cormag sported was very lopsided indeed. "Don't be so modest. You are, after all, going to marry the Princess of Renais. Just think... if– Gods forbid it– anything were to happen to King Ephraim, you would be the King of Renais."

Bristling, Seth, straightened and made a particular effort to keep his tone even. "I certainly would not. Eirika would be the Queen of Renais while my title would be that of royal consort."

"Is that so?" Cormag said, patting his wyvern's flank and looking a little crestfallen. "Well that's disappointing. And here I thought I was friends with an almost-king." He shrugged and slapped Seth on back. "Still, that was one hell of show you two put on. You're certainly not a loyal dullard."

"Thank you, Cormag," Seth replied flatly.

"I'll try to make it to the wedding." His brows creased. "Depending on how things stand back home." They turned as the clatter of footfalls, several in number, rang through the courtyard. "Ah, there's the rest of my little band."

While Knoll had remained confined to the infirmary, recovering from his burns, the other dark mages had continued their research. As they moved to join Cormag, they walked around Knoll like an honour guard, matching their pace to his slow steps. Natasha broke away from them, moving to speak to Seth as the grooms came with the horses. "General Seth," she greeted him, with a dip of her head that suspiciously resembled a bow.

"Good day, Sister Natasha. I've not seen you in some time." She had barely left the infirmary since Knoll had been injured, tasking herself with his care. Seth had stopped by on a few occasions, but always she had been working a complex healing spell, or sound asleep.

"Yes, I've been very busy with Knoll. But he's through the worst now. I–" She wrung her hands for a moment and then, seeming to notice the gesture, stopped abruptly and hid her hands in her robes. "I've meant to congratulate you on your betrothal. I wish you both every happiness."

"Thank you. I–" But then, as he glanced towards the castle, Eirika was there, the breeze tossing her long hair about her shoulders, the sunlight making her seem almost to glow–and he forgot to speak.

Eirika noticed him looking at her, and the smile that graced her features made his heart soar. That she should smile because of him, because of nothing more than his gaze, his regard... It was too much, too wondrous, too fortunate.

"Is Princess Eirika coming to see us off as well?"

Seth shook himself, embarrassed by his lapse in attention. "I apologise, Sister. Yes, she is."

A flurry of respectful greetings followed as the Eirika joined them. "I was told you've completed your research," she said, addressing Knoll.

Half his face was bandaged, while the other half showed pinkish skin that peeled and flaked as if he'd had a bad sunburn. It was difficult to read his expression for his eyebrows and even his eyelashes had been burned away and were only now beginning to regrow. He leaned heavily against his horse as he spoke. "Not I, but my colleagues."

Kelri, her dark curls poking out from under her hood, stepped forward. "But you set us on the right path. We would never have found the spells we needed without your guidance."

Eirika tilted her head and regarded her for a moment. "You seem very hopeful."

Kelri tugged at her hood. "We have the spells we need to seal away the remnants of Prince Lyon's research. I..." She ducked her head. "I did once have my doubts about the wisdom of our endeavour, but after seeing what happened to Vengar–what he did to himself..." She shook herself and then, as she looked up again into Eirika's face, she drew back her hood. Some of her hair was still growing in where it had been singed off by Vengar's flames. "Vengar was angry about the war–we all were–but I don't wish to be consumed by it as he was." She turned then to look towards Natasha. "I will try to have faith that we can heal Grado."

Knoll's voice was as brittle as firewood. "Some things can never heal."

Natasha rounded on him. "But you, Master Knoll, will." She pushed her way through the circle of dark mages and squeezed the hand that had remained uninjured. "You have important work to do in Grado and I will see to it that you're fit enough to accomplish it."

"Renais will continue to offer all the help that we're able," Eirika said.

"Thank you, princess," Knoll croaked.

It was with obviously difficulty that he clambered into his saddle, and Natasha kept a close eye on him all the while. When she was satisfied that he was well settled, she moved to mount her own horse, but paused when Eirika called out to her.

"Sister Natasha?"

She turned, bowing her head. "Yes, Princess?"

Eirika glanced over to Knoll. "_Will_ he heal?" she asked in a low tone.

A few paces away, Knoll sat hunched on his horse, his face and hands invisible in his robes, as if he were no more than a pile of rags tossed into the saddle. But Natasha nodded, her voice full of assurance, her gaze never wavering. "Yes. He will. He does not believe it at present–he still suffers greatly–but he _will_ heal."

Eirika put a hand to her heart and sighed with relief. "I am glad to hear it. I'm sorry we've been such poor hosts."

"No," Natasha replied, shaking her head, "the fault is ours. We brought trouble to your doorstep, just as during the war."

"And we worked together to end it, just as during the war. It will be so for Grado. My brother and I will not abandon your nation." In that moment Seth wanted to wrap his arms around Eirika, to tell her how proud he was to serve one such as her. In spite of the losses she herself had suffered during the war, she was as gentle now as she ever had been. The war had tempered her spirit like a blacksmith did a blade, and like the blade she was stronger for it. Strong enough to let her own wounds heal and to tend to those still wounded.

This time Natasha bowed her head very low. "Thank you, Princess." Her eyes flitted to Seth's face for a moment before returning to Eirika. "And I wish joy in your betrothal."

"Thank you and safe travels, Sister."

As the Grado party set out, walking their horses through the castle gates, Eirika took Seth's hand, intertwining her fingers with his. He glanced at her, smiling, filled with the knowledge that they could do so without censure. No longer need he concern himself with gossip and the snide comments of Myrna and her lot. If he had to bear a false title and endure a few jibes then that was a small price to pay for their happiness.

He squeezed her fingers.

Looking into Eirika's smiling face, he knew she would do as she'd said. She would restore Renais and heal their nation's wounds. And he would be proud to stand always at her side.

**The End**


End file.
